Miss Gaunt
by InsertCoolUserName
Summary: Looking on scene where Tom is given the love potion by Merope. Lots of Tom in it.


_**Miss Gaunt **_

Miss Gaunt was seated by a rock near her small house that afternoon; he had just returned from an exciting day back at Cecilia's family's. This was the first day Tom had ever met them. They were nice enough folks, cheery and handsome, just as his lover was.

Miss Gaunt raised her head, perhaps picking up the sound of the trotting of his horse's hooves. His eyes flew her length; she was incredibly small, and her slightness was exaggerated by her hunched back. Her clothes were a faded yellow, and the skirt had a large rip right across her left thigh. He turned his face away to a different angle, revolted at the sight of wounded flesh.

Her eyes met his; his muscles twitched. Her eyes were always so hollow, half-dead, they scared and disgusted him. She smiled—or tried to at least; the corners of her mouth lifted into small curves; they left a crease in her cheeks. He grimaced.

She rose, out of respect, he thought. He turned away from her thin figure, tightening his grip on the horse's rein; he had important issues to deal with—telling his parents of his intentions to marry Cecilia.

He heard something—two things simultaneously, infact.

He saw, with another impatient glance, the girl approach the flank of his ride. She held something in her hand, was extending her arm out to him. He was confused; was she implying him to _touch _her? Then he saw what she was holding out; a canteen, possibly with a thirst-quenching liquid. She attempted another smile.

His heart suddenly warmed at little Miss Gaunt; he had not realized her to be such a considerate, kind person (it was extremely hot and added to his fidgetiness with his anxiety), even with her dull looks and mad criminal family and poor dirty home. He smiled, in genuine, and reached over to take her canteen. His fingers brushed hers briefly; he shivered; her skin was utterly, utterly cold, and hard (perhaps from hard labour tedning to her mad family).

The drink wasn't water, nor was it anything like he had ever tasted. He wondered, after the first sip, whether it was alcohol but decided against it. This was something far stronger, far better.

He finished the entire flask. He felt better, his heart had unclenched, released of the nerves he'd felt about facing his parents. The only thing that made sense to him right now was the thin, pale, young girl infront of him, leering at him with an anticipating look on her face: Miss Gaunt.

His hands slipped off the rein; he swung off the horse, his eyes lingering on the girl's hollowed triangular face; her eyes, he saw, were now shining with wetness; her lower lip had a sharp cut on it. His hand found it, stroked it softly; it was like he was in a trance.

"Miss, I hadn't realized exactly how beautiful you was today." He said, in a whisper, slurred, too low and soft and lingering. She heard it all the same and seemed darn pleased with his compliment. She didn't blush, couldn't and if he was right in the head and heart, Tom would have sought it a flaw—what type of woman couldn't blush?—but her cheek muscle shifted; her eyes dropped to his large riding boots. His hand slipped off her mouth; his finger found the curve of her chin; he gripped her there and using his index finger, lifted her face up so her eyes met his.

Light green met hollowed grey. His eyes sparkled with passion and lust; hers were full of emotion, real ones, like triumph and guilt and joy and modesty and _love_.

He leaned forward, to an angle, forgetting all about his darling Cecilia and their sweet vows and his parents' wish for him to make a rich pretty wife out of a noble person, not caring, for he thought her beautiful and kind and noble because he was blinded by her Armontetia. She attempted to pull away, but he was too strong and she was too weak and he was too quick and she was too slow; their lips met in a first kiss. She stopped her protests the second the tip of his nose touched her skin; when his lips touched hers, she was sure he would stop, sure this was going too far, only to have him pull closer, have his strong nice arms run down her thin frail ones, pass over her back.

When they broke apart, Merope had forgotten all her mental promises and he had forgotten all about his family and friends and fiancée.

It was the beginning of a life together, a life of lies and pain and fights and tears and guilt and death.

_**Author's Note:** My first fanfic. Describes the story of how Tom Riddle was tricked into love by his wife. Mostly his POV. Please review._


End file.
